


Gorse

by ThirthFloor



Series: Some Adventures - Nonlinear or So [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Braids, Established Relationship, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I challenged myself to write in under 2 hours when I was upset, Jaskier | Dandelion Braids Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia's Hair, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, KindOf?, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no beta we burn like Cintra, so here's some soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25511749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirthFloor/pseuds/ThirthFloor
Summary: Jaskier stops them in a meadow, wanting to braid flowers into Geralt's hair. Geralt asks what they mean.orJaskier finds a certain flower, and is very, very in love with Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Some Adventures - Nonlinear or So [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711828
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	Gorse

“What changed?” Geralt asked one day, entirely out of the blue. Then again, everything that they sat here doing today was just a little out of the ordinary. Jaskier’s fingers worked delicately to comb out the knots in the Witcher’s hueless hair.

For a moment though, he paused. “What do you mean, my dear?” 

“You pester me about this all the time, but this is the first we’ve actually stopped and sat to do it.” Geralt eyed the gathering of wildflowers on the ground beside them, an assortment mostly colouring of yellows and violets. Of course, he had expected it one day to come to this, when they had a moment to rest and Jaskier found the perfect place.

They sat in a meadow, underneath the greatest tree along the thin forest edge, still in sight of the road. The grass here was a light green, not pale but bright, and while the clearing was narrow, it stretched far eastward until it reached what was likely a river or stream at the base of a rock formation. Flowers scattered in clusters across the area, pin-pricking the emerald sea with patches of vibrant contrasts. Geralt took it in silence as he waited for Jaskier’s response.

“I found gorse,” Something tickled under the Witcher’s nose, the scent sweet but a little too strong, and he turned away from the flower buds to sneeze into the crook of his elbow. The Bard’s laughter chimed in immediately after, and his ringed fingers soon found their way back into white locks, evenly dividing the strands to be woven into fine braids.

Geralt smiled then, relaxed and refined, and he leaned back just enough for his head to be in a better position. On the surface, the answer was fitting to his vague question, so he let it go and felt the steady tugs and pulls of Jaskier’s hands.

One by one, the Bard threaded the flowers into the intricate braids, beginning above each of the Witcher’s temples before meeting the separate patterns into a single tie down his back. When at last his work was complete, Jaskier patted both hands onto Geralt’s broad, leather-clad shoulders. “All done! You can feel them, but be gentle. The daisies are at the top.”

“This is… nice. Why exactly did you want to do it?” Geralt prodded at the seam of a braid, fingers brushing over the thin petals of a little white daisy. Afraid of crushing the blossoms, he lifted the braid to rest it over Jaskier’s shoulder when he leaned further back against him. Jaskier circled his arms under Geralt’s and held him close about the waist.

He hummed, a short and thoughtful sound rather than a tune or lyric. “I don’t have long hair, and you do. It’s nice to get to play with it sometimes, and, well, all flowers have meaning, don’t they? I wanted to write a little poem in my head.” Pressing a little kiss behind Geralt’s ear, he earned a tiny shiver.

“What does your poem say?”

“It’s more of a feeling then actual stanzas, I can’t think of words to go with it yet.” Tickling his scalp, Jaskier spoke to each flower he had woven in. “Daisies are for new beginnings, or sometimes for parenthood. I used them for newness, because, well, every day with you is a surprise.”

Geralt blushed, heat prickling at the surface of his skin even though it would be slow to show. “Oh?”

“Yes, would I ever lie to you, dearest Witcher of mine? Exaggerate, maybe, but never,  _ ever _ lie.” He touched the next bud, just a simple brush of his hand. “Peonies can be for a lot of things. Namely happiness and romance, but they can also represent prosperity such as in riches and an overall sense of completeness. Makes me think of how I’ve kept you from starving every once in awhile with my trusty, lovely lute there.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, mumbling affectionately, “Alright, I get it… but I thought peonies were for bashfulness? You know, like… something a shy kid would give to someone they fancied.”

“That too! Oh, you know more about this than I thought! Well, I was thinking of that too, namely to represent you and all the cute little things you don’t think I notice. You’re a lot more gentle than you seem, which of course I’ve told you before… I just adore it, though.” With this string of praise, Jaskier busied himself with peppering little kisses along Geralt’s neck, earning a hum and a soft, content chuckle.

“Next?” The Witcher offered, calm and curious.

“Thyme. Of course, for strength and courage. That’s what you have, you’ve always had it, and I’ve had it, of sorts… but something more has come of it when we’re together.” Jaskier paused then, slender fingers rubbing gentle circles onto Geralt’s stomach over where they rest. “I had something more like bravado. Fearless, yes, but in a foolish way. And your courage just came from a recklessness, not caring what then happened. But with each other, we built this fancy, wonderful thing called  _ trust _ , and in that, I think our real strength really blossomed.”

He spoke with such a reverence, that if he didn’t care for rhyme and syntax, Geralt would tell him to write that down as it was in his little notebook and call it good. To the Witcher, these nice words sounded like enough of a poem already; and a meaningful one, too, not some annoying, belabouring whine as some of the less talented produced. Anything Jaskier wrote was pleasant enough, though.

“And of course, as is my namesake, I added buttercups.” Jaskier tugged gently on the braid, just at the bottom. He had skipped whatever was at the nape of Geralt’s neck, and he could tell because the stem scratched just barely at his skin. “Because this is  _ my  _ handiwork and I am claiming it as such. Call it a signature.”

“What about the one here?” Not letting it pass by, Geralt reached a hand back to feel the length of the braid, stopping at the unfamiliar flower. “You said you found gorse. Is this it?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s that… I got all of the thorns out, but the stem is sticking out just a tad. Let me fix that for you…” 

And something in his voice made Geralt’s brow furrow worriedly. He sat up, turning around to face his Bard with that same concerned expression, probably looking something similar to a protective puppy, as Jaskier had sometimes described him so lovingly. “What does it mean, then?”

Jaskier looked a little shocked that he had moved, and took a moment to lower his hands into his lap, folding them together to refrain from any fidgeting. “It just means… you know. Love. Through all the seasons. I know it’s, well, gorse is a  _ weed _ , but sometimes it just makes me think of you…”

Geralt softened, fingers finding their way back into the braid to touch the flower. “It does?”

“As if every flower doesn’t?”

“Why gorse?”

“It just…” Jaskier heaved a sigh, blue eyes turning upwards to count the leaves in the canopy above them. “It’s resilient. If a gorse bush ends up in your soil, that’s it, it’s there for good. And I know what you’re going to say,” He deepened his voice comically to imitate the man before him, “‘I never stay in one place for long.’ Yeah, I know. The point is though, no one really… forgets. Picture the garden in people’s minds. It’s just there. You have that effect on people, Geralt.”

The Witcher swallowed past a lump that had formed in his throat, seemingly for no reason. “Are you just speaking from experience?”

“Maybe. But look,” Resiliently, the Bard continued to make his point. “What I’m getting at is more. These flowers, these weeds, whatever. People can see them as they like. I choose to see it as a flower. And gorse stays around, the plant is evergreen even when the flowers don’t show. So, even when you’re not being soft and sweet around me, even when you’re on your Witcher business, that  _ good  _ part of you stays. The part of you that helps people, no matter how ungrateful or cruel they can be in return. You’re a good man, Geralt, you’re just… you’re so much. And because of that, I mean… Hence ‘love throughout the seasons’. No matter how long you were gone, no matter what time of year or what we were facing… it was there. Evergreen. I just loved you.”

“Jaskier.” When the Bard smiled, Geralt took his face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over his pinkened cheeks, but affected not from embarrassment or shame of what he just said. That pressure at the base of the Witcher’s throat remained, the heat still flushed to his face. His heart beat heavily; slowly, but heavily. 

“Yes, my love?” Jaskier’s hands rose to rest on top of Geralt’s. And he felt so much love, so much that it built up and built up as if it were about to burst. A breeze drifted past them, swaying the grass and flowers in the field, pushing clouds along in the sky. It was warm, and it was bright, and here they sat in repose.

“Why do you smile like you’re about to cry?”

And he did. Just a little, a few stray tears slipping away as his smile only broadened and a beautiful laugh bubbled up instead. “It’s simple, my dear. You’re just so,  _ so _ wonderful. And I? I am so,  _ so _ lucky.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you liked it, I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> I wrote this at like 2 am because I was having a terrible night, hence it being quite soft and without much context. I hope you will accept my fluff!! 
> 
> I just... they are big and should hold each other and be soft.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter @thirthfloor or on Tumblr @aegir-emblem (joke/meme/main blog), or @juggled-muse (where this was originally posted!! That's my writing blog!) Any support helps!!


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